


Lethal

by Doshaburi



Series: The Purple Rose and his Thorn [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate universe - Mafia, M/M, Mafia AU, Mafia Boss Jeonghan, Mafia Seungcheol, Sniper Wonwoo, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:28:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24288931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doshaburi/pseuds/Doshaburi
Summary: Coups knows he shouldn't be deceived by the look. For behind the beauty that he knows, lethal thorns exist.As they say, every rose has its thorn.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan
Series: The Purple Rose and his Thorn [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1753414
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	Lethal

**Author's Note:**

> Intended to be a multi-chapter thing but I'm turning it into a series instead to give me more freedom in writing the ideas.  
> So here you go, an overview of their relationship.

A gunshot and everything turns quiet. The crows cry for the sight beheld in a shady shack on the outskirts of the city before flying away. Inside the tattered room, stands a man. Cold eyes fixed on the lifeless lump in front of him, stray strands fall down his eyes as he breathes.

Silence wraps the air.

The man runs his fingers through his locks, pushing the black strays back with a deep breath. A few moments and no words have spoken, no muscle has moved, and it seems like even an ant is too scared to make a sound. Snapping out from his trance, the lone figure blinks once. His combat boots then move against the wooden floor, taking some steps backward, away from the pooling blood that has started to travel dangerously close to his feet.

He needs to remain spotless, or  _ he  _ won’t be pleased.

His silver Tokarev TT-33 has been stored safely on the chest holster he’s wearing. His feet bring him out of the run-down shack. While he’s fishing for a pack of cigarettes in his pocket, his in-ear is buzzing lowly. Then it turns into static noise.

“ _ -lo? -s it wo-ing? Hyu- co- _ ”

Trapping the stick between his lips, he takes a gas lighter out from his back pocket. The leather boots make their way a yard further from the creaky building.

Another buzz, followed by a low voice. This time, clearer.

“ _ -llo? Hello? Coups  _ hyung _? _ ”

The lighter finally produces a small flame after a click, lighting up the cig he’s having. Faint smoke dancing in the air, and  _ Coups  _ inhales. He slips the stick in between his index and middle finger protected by a black glove, taking the nicotine away from plump lips as he blows a puff of smoke. He then taps the in-ear a few times.

“What is it, Wonwoo?”

“ _ Thank God. I thought I couldn’t reach you. _ ”

Coups starts walking, away from the shack through the small forest. The device on his ear buzzes again.

“Hyung _ , are you done? _ ”

Replying with a short “ _ yes _ ”, Coups lets his legs take him to the small pathway that he took to reach the shack. The earthy way leads him to the carbon black BMW 520d he had parked before the execution. He blows another puff of smoke, free hand reaching for his phone in the pocket of his trousers.

Sliding the screen with his thumb to unlock the device, he’s greeted by some messages. Mostly from a ‘Kim Mingyu’. That pup is always eager and energetic for everything. Sometimes he feels bad  _ and  _ confused about the guy. Kid’s too good to be in the business.

Leaning towards the body of the car with a cigarette between his lips, Coups start scrolling through the messages. His dark orbs finally catch a message named by a single letter;  _ Y _ .

His finger quickly taps on the screen, revealing a short message that screams absolute order. He doesn’t even need to think for words. As if he’s programmed for it, he replies with obedience.

_ From: Y _

_ I want you ready by 9 PM. _

_ To: Y _

_ I will. _

“ _ Hyung _ !”

The owner of the voice appears from a distance, trotting his way to the car. Heckler and Koch PSG-1 slinged on his back. His stoic face shows no change in expression upon seeing the guy waiting for him.

“What took you so long, Wonwoo?” Coups asks, throwing the cigarette onto the ground and stepping on it. The man in question fixes his glasses before taking his rifle off over his head, proceeding to open the back seat of the BMW and places the weapon on the backseat. Instead of answering though, Wonwoo slams the door and makes his way to the passenger seat.

Coups doesn’t mind the lack of reply. Rather than spending his energy on the sniper, he chooses to get into the driver seat. The engine hums with one simple press of a button, and off they go; away from the old shack. Leaving the mess for the other people to take care of.

* * *

The wheels of the BMW roll against a long dirt road, guarded by the forest on each side. Coups has his first two buttons of his black shirt undone, and his grip on the wheel’s tight. The ride is filled with nothing but silence, as the two don’t even bother to strike a conversation. Wonwoo is not much of a talker, and Coups’ frown tells him that the man doesn’t want to waste his voice either. Both sights are focused on the bumpy path ahead.

A few turns and a high gate comes into view. The headlight of the car shines every curve and detail of the entrance to their destination which splits open upon their arrival, allowing the car to drive past the two guards responsible for the front line. Coups turns the wheel, steering the car to drive past the decorative fountain and to the basement.

Finally coming into a halt after a skillful parking, the debris and dirt from the journey through the earth way falls down in a slow motion as the black 520d moves when the passengers get off of the vehicle. Wonwoo stretches his slim figure as soon as he’s out in the basement. Being on the look out is straining his back (or maybe he’s getting old). After a few cracks of knuckles, Wonwoo proceeds to take his PSG-1 out and strides towards the elevator. He pushes the button, waiting for the door to open when Coups catches up.

“What time is it?”

That was the first question thrown at Wonwoo after their  _ small exchange  _ back on the site. Sharp eyes are glancingon the slim wrist adorned by Audemars Piguet Royal Oak while Coups is busy stripping his hands off the black gloves, one piece of the leather is already trapped between his teeth. Wonwoo’s gaze is then shifted back to the elevator door when it  _ dings  _ open. Leather boots step into the small space.

“Eight forty six.”

The elevator door closes.

“You got something to do?” Wonwoo asks, his eyes now focused on his Heckler and Koch, checking if there is any scratch on his dear  _ baby _ . He can hear his partner’s deep exhale very clear inside the moving box. And when he receives no answer, he turns his head.

“The  _ Purple Rose _ ?”

A nod confirms the sniper’s guess. And the conversation ends there, just right when the door slides open. Their arrival is greeted by two young members walking across the room, talking amongst themselves. The taller one quickly notices the others’ presence and tilts his head like a puppy noticing someone is coming. A smile breaks, canines on display. And he takes long strides towards the two.

“Coups hyung! Wonwoo hyung! How was the mission?”

The question comes out rather enthusiastically. Perhaps if this guy had a tail, it would be wagging by now.

“Your excitement upon these  _ missions _ is still leaving me dumbstrucked, Kim Mingyu. Once you  _ actually  _ participate in the  _ missions _ that dumb smile of yours would be wiped out instantly.” Come the harsh reply from the sniper. He doesn’t even bat an eye on this Kim Mingyu. Only marching forward with his rifle in hand, leaving Mingyu standing in the room like a kicked puppy, getting a pat on the shoulder from the other guy.

On the other hand, Coups is standing still one meter away from the elevator. One hand grasping his gloves and one holding his phone. His thumb swiftly tapping on the screen and once he’s done, he slips the device on his back pocket. He realizes that he got around ten minutes before meeting  _ him _ . Thus he wastes no time.

Making a quick stop to the locker area to thrash his gloves into the pile of dirty clothes along with his in-ear, Coups confidently trudges to the second floor. His legs have memorized the way and easily maneuvered the body to the  _ place _ , until it stops in front of a door with no guards. Straightening his back, he lifts his hand, knocking on the wooden surface using his bare knuckle. Not waiting for any permission, he grabs on the handle and pushes down, opening the door with a small creak.

The room is spacious, yet dimly lit, making it hard to make out whatever, _or whoever_ is inside. Though everyone in the mansion knows _who_ occupies the chamber, it’s always nerve-wracking to enter, even for Coups who has been in the room more times than all of the people in the mansion combined (except, maybe the maids). For sure all of the experience he has, manages to come with a result; the know-how to stay calm.

Or at least a facade.

His movements tranquil, fingers grabbing the grip of his Tokarev and pulling it out of the chest holster he’s wearing. The silver pistol is placed carefully on top of a small cabinet near the door. Coups  _ always _ feels like he is being watched from the moment he enters. It’s not like he's trespassing, he has all the permits to get into the room.

“Two minutes early.”

A voice, velvet yet dangerous, comes from inside the master bathroom. The light peeking from under the door signaling that the owner of the room is occupying it. Coups stays composed. His fingers are now fiddling on the buttons of his sleeve so he can roll the fabric up to his elbow.

When the door of the bathroom opens, Coups has already stood straight with a firm gaze staring ahead—hands balled into fists on each side. The sound of footsteps nearing doesn’t faze him. He just waits in silence until a face comes into view.

A beautiful face with an apathetic gaze. Blond hair styled perfectly to compliment his delicate features. Crisp grey suit wraps his slim body, buttons undone and legs are clad in matching grey trousers. The sole of his black, polished dress shoes creates a faint echo against the shiny marble floor when he takes a light step forward.

The ticking of the clock is like a metronome. Every second that has passed is bringing Coups’ gaze back to focus, meeting with the interlocutor’s cold one. They stay like that for a few seconds, until a sudden pain coursing through Coups’ system.

_ Fuck. _

When he realizes what has happened, he is already seated on the floor. His body has fallen from the sudden blow right on the gut and he winces in pain. He leers at the figure in front of him, one hand reaches out to his empty holster in reflex.

He should have known, out of all people, to not lower his guard in front of  _ him _ —in front of his boss.

In front of  _ Yoon Jeonghan _ .

An unexpected pressure on his left shoulder snaps him back to reality. Yoon Jeonghan is looking down at him, face as stoic as ever, but Coups  _ knows  _ that he is not pleased. The leather shoe presses harder, making the victim grits his teeth.

“You’re getting rusty.”

The comment comes off harsh, just how it is supposed to be. Coups keeps his composure at Jeonghan’s mercy, though he’s a little nervous—from the look of it, Yoon Jeonghan is in a really foul mood.

“You were not trained to get knocked by a single blow,” More pressure is pushing Coups’ body down, he’s now relying on his elbow for support. His eyes keep glaring at the blonde. “Moreover,  _ my  _ single blow.”

Keeping quiet, Coups is trying to fight the force from Jeonghan’s foot, though gravity seems to have a lot of fun in taking part in his boss’ plan. His abdomen tightens as he’s attempting to lift his torso up.

No, Jeonghan is not  _ that  _ strong. In fact, Coups is definitely way stronger than him; given all the training he received back in the early days. But God knows what would happen if he uses his full force against the  _ Purple Rose _ .

When he sees that the man under him is making a move, Jeonghan tightens his jaw and delivers a rather harsh kick to the part he’s been abusing,  _ almost  _ sending Coups body to the floor; back only a few inches from meeting the marble floor. The resistance manages to paint a devious smile on the angelic face, and the blonde uses the tip of his foot to tip Coups’ chin, “I’m disappointed.”

“My apologies.”

Yoon Jeonghan scoffs, he retracts his foot; returning the sole to the ground. One of his hands sneak inside his trousers’ pocket, and the other is tucking a stray strand back behind his ear.

“You’re getting messy lately,” He starts, shifting his weight from one leg to another, “Just because someone else would clean up after your mess, that doesn’t mean you could do things carelessly.”

The gears on Coups’ brain are moving like crazy. If Jeonghan says something like that then surely he has done something wrong. He’s thinking about the things that he did during the mission that might upset the man in front of him. And it doesn’t take long for things to click.  _ The cigarette _ . He breathes in, ready to state his mistake when Jeonghan beats him.

A disappointed sigh escapes from the boss’ lips followed by another sentence, “You do know that I personally chose you to do the  _ jobs _ , the ones that only the people I trust can do, right?” The blonde taps his foot on the shiny floor, “I chose you because of the potential I saw in you. Because of your skills and obedience. I trust you to be in close proximity with me, to protect me from various stuff,” A short pause, “I trust you to not leave any trace.”

The tapping of his foot stops. Jeonghan stills for a few seconds and Coups take his time to observe. His heart has long calmed down, allowing him to assess the situation and predict Jeonghan’s next move. The blow he received reminds him of his training years ago to always be on his guard. The position of Jeonghan’s right-hand man has lulled him into a false sense of security.

Staring right to his subordinate’s calm orbs, Jeonghan’s hand sneaks into the inside of his suit. Slowly he pulls out a Taurus 761 and points the pistol towards Coups’ head.

“Now let’s play a game,” Jeonghan says, voice light and eyes dangerous. The muzzle of his revolver is only a few centimeters away from his underling’s forehead, “Will you survive this, after your declining performances these days?”

Coups stays unmoving for a few heartbeats. It produces a sly smile on the beautiful face of his boss, thumb moving to cock the hammer of the Taurus. The click rings really loud in the spacious bedroom;  _ music to Jeonghan’s ears _ .

Jeonghan’s index finger is ready at the trigger, a small pull and the shot would easily be fired. He would be a little sad, for he could lose a really good right-hand man. But this is all a fun  _ game _ for him. His group is known to be clean at the job; spotless, traceless. Courtesy of his splendid clean up team ( _ which reminds him that he needs to thank Seungkwan later for reporting the carelessness of his favorite executor _ ). So getting rid of an incompetent being is mandatory.

Right when Jeonghan pulls the trigger of his revolver, however, Coups moves, pressing his forehead against the muzzle of the firearm. His adamant gaze meets Jeonghan’s shocked one.

No loud  _ crack _ , no smoke. Just a click.

Followed by Jeonghan’s hearty laugh that bounces off the walls.

No more pistol pointed at Coups, for the shooter is busy laughing—both hands holding his stomach. The amusement doesn’t seem to subdue, as Jeonghan almost topples over from cackling. When he has finally collected his composure back, he straightens up his posture. The back of his hand is used to wipe the tear in the corner of his eyes. He then muses, “See? This is why you’re my favorite person in this business.”

Coups keeps his expression stoic. He knows that Jeonghan was just bluffing. He knows that the revolver is unloaded. He  _ trusts _ Jeonghan with all of his life.

“I guess my luck hasn’t ran out after all.”

Jeonghan releases the latch of the cylinder as he turns his body and strides towards his king size bed. Coups uses the opportunity to get on his feet, deeming the situation safe as the blonde has shown him his back with ease. His eyes trailing on Jeonghan’s figure, following how he moves gracefully until he stops to take a seat on the edge of the mattress with his legs spread. 

With a cunning smile, the  _ Purple Rose  _ turns his Taurus upside down. Coups eyes widen, as they chase after a single bullet that free falls to the marble floor and crashes with a light ring. Yoon Jeonghan closes the cylinder back and waves the revolver at Coups.

“ _ Russian Roulette _ .”

_ Damn. That bullet could have nestled on his head. _

**Author's Note:**

> Drafted for months until I saw a prompt that encouraged me to continue this concept:  
> https://twitter.com/ctrlcouphan/status/1253704733685997570  
> (Which also takes long to finish because I'm a slow writer)
> 
> I'm always intrigued by the idea of Jeonghan being dominant/in control of stuff.  
> In my head this is more like an alpha x alpha thingy so yeah. Been a while since the last time I properly write so I'm really rusty...
> 
> Chapter two may or may not contain smut. I don't know (yet).


End file.
